


In Character

by Ina MacAllan (inamac)



Series: Filming HP7 [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter RPF
Genre: Acting, Action/Adventure, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-22
Updated: 2010-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:59:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inamac/pseuds/Ina%20MacAllan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six months after the events of <i>Off Book</i> Lucius Malfoy returns to Leavesden with a new proposition for Jason Isaacs...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Character

# In Character

  


A sequel to _Off Book_

 

It was a pity, Jason Isaacs thought, as he wiped the film of make-up from his face and examined the result in the mirror, that the cream couldn't do much about the grey smudge of tiredness around his eyes. It had been a long day on the set of the final Harry Potter movie at Leavesden; longer than anyone had anticipated, given the script re-write, and a lot of improvisation both in front of and behind the camera. But it had worked. David's enthusiasm had surprised him, but he'd been right. It would be great. The fans and book-purists wouldn't like it, but it had felt _right_. A satisfying end to a role that had become much more than the cameo for which he'd originally signed up nearly a decade ago.

He had just finished removing the last traces of the adhesive that had fixed the wig in place, and was cleaning up when the First Assistant put her head round the door of the trailer.

"Jason?"

"Yeah. Come in. Problem?"

She shook her head, stepping forward to flip the pages on her ever-present clipboard. "Not at all. Rather the opposite, from your point of view."

Jason blinked. "Look, if it's okay, can it wait 'til tomorrow? I'm bushed."

She gave a smile that he found absolutely unreadable – part amused, part apologetic, part enigmatic. "Not really. That's sort of the point. We've just been looking at the schedule and we realise that actually we don't need you January, February, March."

He frowned. "Why?"

"Well,", she leaned forward to show him the relevant pages, barely legible under layers of scribbled amendments. "Because that thing you just decided to do means that you're not in that scene," she pointed, "or that scene, or," she flipped the page, "that scene."

"What?" His exclamation held just the right note of outrage. "Wait! I've changed my mind! It was a terrible mistake! Get everybody back! "

The assistant hesitated, then flipped the cover back over the pad and made purposefully for the door. "Right. I'll just tell the crew to re-build the set and get everyone back in costume then."

Jason returned her grin. That was another great thing about working on the Potter set – on any British production really – people recognised when you were joking. If he'd pulled that line on one of the earnest young gofers on a Hollywood production half of them would have dissolved into tears and the other half really would have tried to get the production turned around before their misplaced enthusiasm could be checked. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'll pass. I'm sure I can find something to fill in the time."

The woman nodded as she opened the door. "Well, goodbye then. Enjoy the break. We'll be in touch."

The door swung closed behind her, the final click of the lock adding punctuation that made the actor realise that a tiny percentage of his remark hadn't been a joke. He really had finished with Potter. Bar the paycheque, publicity and premières.

He rose to begin clearing some of his personal belongings from the trailer, then paused at the sound of the door opening again.

"Has David changed his mind?" he asked, without turning, assuming that it was the assistant returning with some forgotten message.

"If he has, I have not been informed of the fact."

The voice was male, dry, faintly condescending, and wholly familiar. Jason froze and took a breath before turning, schooling his expression to a neutrality he did not feel. "Hello, Mister Malfoy."

The newcomer inclined his head in gracious acknowledgement, stepped forward and closed the door behind him. "Oh, no formality, please. Not after today's events."

"Ah..." Jason cleared a throat that had suddenly become very dry. "You saw this afternoon's shoot?"

"I did. That was," he paused, "Very impressive. I wish I'd had the nerve to do it at the time."

Jason inclined his head. "It felt right," he said warily, still not certain what the other man – wizard – was going to do. He did not expect an amused laugh.

"Good. Then I've not lost my touch. Your discussion with that director was most instructive. I'm not sure that, in your position, I could have persuaded him to take such a controversial decision with regard to a set script."

"Wait! You're happy with this?"

Lucius smiled. "Of course. It was my idea. Why should I be concerned by what people in the Muggle world think of me? Whether the portrayal is yours or Ms Rowling's? What does it matter to me that I'm perceived as an abusive father, an unprincipled racist or even," he grimaced, "dead?"

"Your idea? How..." Jason stopped as realisation washed over him. "Imperius? You planted the suggestion in my mind? I didn't feel anything."

"That is what you may expect to feel when I use the Imperius Curse. But you are right – it was a suggestion, no more. I assure you that the business, and the performance, were entirely uninfluenced. And, I might add, a privilege to witness."

"Thank you. But I'm sure you didn't come here just to kibitz."

Malfoy nodded. "No. I came to extend an invitation. Since you now have a little time at your disposal, I would like you to spend a short time at the Manor."

"Why?"

"Because it is essential that – certain persons – believe that I am at home. And it is equally essential for my purposes that I am – elsewhere. I have some unfinished war business to attend to."

It was said casually, and that alone was enough to chill the actor's blood. Because off the page, and in all too corporeal flesh, Lucius Malfoy was quite terrifying, and the thought that he had been only the lieutenant to the Dark Lord wasn't reassuring. If Lucius Malfoy was preparing to complete some 'unfinished war business' the safest place to be was probably behind him. As far as possible behind him.

Though whether a stay at Malfoy Manor constituted a 'safe place' was something that Jason preferred not to consider too closely.

"Finite Incantatem!"

"What?" The apparent non-sequiteur interrupted his thoughts. He looked up to find Lucius smiling.

"You can say 'no'," he said. "I've lifted the Imperius from you. If you do accept – well, I do not want anyone in my house who is not there of his own free will, and able to act in his own defence as well as that of my family. Particularly my daughter."

Hermione Malfoy. It was a subtle reminder of the reason why he had accepted Lucius's first task – and of how much danger he had been in on that occasion. This time he did not even have the excuse of needing background research on the Wizarding World in general and Lucius Malfoy in particular. That role was spectacularly over. The chances that he would ever need to wear the wig again in future were zero.

He could say 'No'. In fact he _should_ say 'No'. "Yes."

And he found himself studying Lucius's expression of profound relief with a detachment that overrode a silent terror of the consequences of his decision which resembled nothing so much as an acute attack of stage fright. "Just don't," he added, "Ask me to do anything suicidal."

Lucius cocked an eyebrow. "Such as hosting one of Narcissa's dinner parties? I think I can promise that on this occasion any danger will attach itself to me. All you need to do is to make it clear to anyone who is interested that Lucius Malfoy is in residence at the Manor for the foreseeable future."

"Then perhaps hosting a dinner party might be exactly the sort of thing I should be doing." Even as the words left his mouth Jason realised that instinct and training were already shaping his responses. The scary thing about this was not having to improvise, but not having a director to give feedback.

Lucius started, then nodded. "Perhaps you should. Or at least issue invitations. A quiet word with a few officials over the Floo network would be a convincing demonstration of my supposed whereabouts. If you think that you could manage that?"

Involuntarily Jason glanced at the blond wig on its stand, and all the shed debris of the character whom he had been playing for nearly ten years scattered across the dressing table. What worked on film wasn't going to convince anyone at close quarters. Particularly the sort of people who might be prepared to listen to a 'quiet word' from Lucius Malfoy. The wizard noticed the hesitation and swept a hand to one side, dismissing all doubts. "Of course, you will need to take a polyjuice potion to maintain the deception."

"Oh of course. Every hour, on the hour." He remembered Brendan's performance of that particular piece of business. "Do you mind if your friends think that you've suddenly taken to drink?"

The spark of amusement in Lucius's eyes made it clear that he understood the reference, and the joke. He drew himself up with an intimidating frown. "Yes," he said. "I would mind. Particularly as Madame Granger's new long-acting formula has eliminated the need for frequent doses. I believe that the woman's experience with that particular potion during the late unpleasantness did rather concentrate her mind on improving both its efficacy and taste. That and a generous grant to the Auror Research Department, of which she is now Head."

Jason did not miss the implication that the 'generous grant' almost certainly originated from the Malfoy vault at Gringotts, though it could probably not be traced directly. On the occasion of their last meeting it had been obvious that the decade since the end of the Wizarding war had not materially affected either Lucius Malfoy's freedom or his funds. Thinking of which...

"And what if I have my own plans for the next few days?"

Lucius picked up the amended Call Sheet from the table. "Two days," he said, "When you should have been at... Pinewood? – No matter if you spend the time at the Manor instead. You will be a lot more comfortable. And the food will be better."

"And the pay?" The question surprised Jason even as he asked it, but Lucius was unmoved.

"Your usual rate," he said. "And without deducting your agent's percentage. I really don't think that they need to be bothered with this little – sideline."

Jason took a calming breath, biting down the retort that might have earned him a hex if not the Cruciatus Curse. Of all the things Lucius might have said, that had come as a surprise. The man – wizard – knew far too much about the way the Muggle world worked for someone who had spent most of his life despising it. Which was intriguing. He was curious to see more of the Wizarding world even though any professional reason for accepting this offer was now over. "Payment in Galleons?" he asked.

Lucius inclined his head. "If you wish. Though from your point of view they would have curiosity value only."

"I'm curious." Jason stated. "Fair enough. You have two days of my time."

"Done." Lucius said, with the air of a horse-trader completing a dubious deal. Jason did not miss the implication, but shook hands anyway.

"And now," Lucius continued, "you will need a wand." He pulled a slim, nondescript length of black wood from an inner pocket of his coat and held it out. Jason would have recognised it even had there not been a paper label hanging from the handle.

"This is Snape's wand."

Lucius shrugged. "Is it? I just _Summoned_ something suitable as I was passing the prop store. If you're finished here we should be moving. It's a long drive to Wiltshire."

Steamrollered again, Jason dropped the wand into his briefcase, alongside the day's shooting script and the redundant call sheets, and followed Lucius out to the studio car park.

+++

The reference to the drive had passed him by, he'd expected Lucius to aparate them to his home – and was not looking forward to the experience, but the wizard led the way across the tarmac to where a spotless cream Bentley, complete with leather upholstery and all the top of the range fittings, stood discreetly parked against the chain-link fence. Anyone seeing it on the lot would have assumed it belonged to one of the Warners executives. Lucius pointed his wand and the locks clicked open as if he'd used a more mundane, and Muggle, electronic key. He nodded to Jason to take the passenger seat as he slid behind the leather-covered wheel.

"More comfortable than a broomstick," Lucius said, tapping his wand on the dashboard, which lit up in response as the engine purred to life, "and less noticeable on the roads."

In fact it was a car that would turn heads as soon as they reached the motorway, and seeing Lucius Malfoy in the driver's seat was a surreal experience. Sitting next to him was terrifying. Jason hoped that the wizard wouldn't think that fastening his seatbelt was a critique of his host's driving skills. "I didn't think that wizards were allowed to use cars. Isn't there some law about 'Misuse of Muggle Artefacts'?"

Lucius steered, one-handed, between a Fiat Punto and a white van. Neither vehicle seemed to notice that they'd been cut up. He frowned. "Allowed? When the Ministry itself runs the Knight Bus? And I am not misusing this vehicle. I'm using it for the purpose for which it was designed – getting from place to place in comfort and style."

He had a point, Jason conceded. The wizards must use a lot of Muggle-made things, even if they used magic to operate them.

"Of course," Malfoy continued, "If I were to allow the Muggles to attempt to use a bewitched vehicle, or even to see it do something that it was not designed for – flying for example – then the Ministry would doubtless wish to ask me some questions about it. But as it is; well, you know from your own experience that the secret of passing unrecognised among Muggles is to do nothing remarkable. Or at least," he gave a feral smile, "nothing that can't be covered by a simple memory charm."

It was a surprisingly short time later (for Jason, who had spent far too much time stuck in traffic jams on both the M25 and the M3), that the car swept smoothly up the unmade drive to an ancient stone manor house that looked nothing like the CGI-augmented mansion that they were using to represent Malfoy Manor in the film. The hedges on either side of the drive were low, neatly trimmed yew, giving a clear view of the house itself and the Italianate knot-gardens that flanked the stone bridge over the moat.

Lucius turned the vehicle to park directly in front of the entrance, and they both disembarked. As soon as the doors had whispered closed the car glided off, of its own accord, around the side of the house, doubtless to some converted stable parking place. The master of the house led him up to the front door, which also opened of its own volition, and into the stone-flagged entrance hall.

As he did so, an owl, which had been sitting on a post at the end of the drive, flew in over their heads and landed on the newel post at the foot of the staircase. Lucius reached out to remove the scrap of parchment tied to the bird's leg, unfolded it to read a short message, and swore.

"We have less time than I anticipated," he said. "Follow me."

Jason did as commanded, and found himself in a room that appeared, from its white-tiled walls, marble and wooden worksurfaces, hanging iron pots and pans and scattered crystal and brass-bound instruments, to be part-kitchen, part-dairy and part-laboratory. There was a cauldron simmering on the hotplate of what looked like an ordinary Aga, and Lucius _summoned_ a ladle and a cup from their hooks on the wall, dipping the ladle into the cauldron to pour a cupful of its contents before holding it out.

"Polyjuice," he said, though it could hardly have been anything else, given their earlier agreement.

Jason looked at the liquid in the cup. It was pale and thick, like wallpaper paste or sago, neither of which he found appetising, but at least it didn't look quite as vile as the gloop that props had provided for the films. Essence of Malfoy. It would probably taste bitter.

"Don't you have to add a hair or something?" The thought alone almost made him gag. Downing this with any pretence of enjoyment would be a hell of an acting challenge.

Lucius also grimaced. "Fortunately that is one of the ingredients that Madame Granger has refined, though it is less easy to obtain." He opened a drawer and drew out a small ivory-handled tool with a long, thin blade. He held his left hand over the cup, contemplating it for a moment, then drew the steel firmly across the tip of his little finger, watching the blood well up along the cut before shaking it into the liquid.

Which immediately turned not pink but clear.

"Drink," said Lucius.

Jason was about to obey the order when the door was pushed open and a small voice said "Daddy?"

Both men turned. Hermione Malfoy stood in the doorway, clad in a pale pink nightdress, feet thrust into fluffy pink slippers and with her blonde hair loose around her shoulders. There was no mistaking her parentage. Pink, thought Jason, did not look good on a Malfoy.

"Darling," Lucius knelt, robes pooling carelessly around him as he met his daughter's eyes, "You should be in bed."

"I haven't had my bedtime story," she said. "You said you'd be home _ages_ ago."

Lucius glanced up at Jason, and back to his daughter. "I was longer than I expected. But I've brought an old friend home with me. He's going to pretend to be me for a little while. But you're not to tell anyone."

The child looked up critically. "Okay. Will he read me a story?"

Whatever Lucius had been planning to do that was considered dangerous enough that he was going to these lengths to avoid the notice of the Aurors, it could not have left him looking more desperate than he did at that simple question. Jason took pity on him, smiled and nodded.

"Yes, I will. If you're good. And pretend that I'm your Daddy for a while."

She sniffed, and looked up at the cup that still bubbled on the table. "If you take polyjuice then you'll _be_ my Daddy."

Both men nodded. Lucius got to his feet. "Yes, darling, but it won't be for long."

She looked thoughtfully up at Jason, considering the situation. Finally she said "But you're a Muggle. Muggles can't do magic."

Now it was Jason's turn to squat to her level. "Some Muggles can," he said. "A different sort of magic." He flicked a finger beside her ear and, as she turned her head to the sound, produced a coin apparently from thin air. Hermione's eyes widened and she reached out her own small hand, into which he placed the pound coin.

"Oh," she sounded awed. "Is this Muggle money?"

He nodded. "It's called a 'pound'."

"There's writing round it. It looks like a charm."

He should not have been surprised that a five-year-old Malfoy would recognise the Latin inscription. "Sort of," he grinned, looking up at Lucius. "It's to stop people making copies of it."

Lucius himself looked startled, but smiled back. "Like the numbers the goblins put on galleons."

"Exactly like that."

Hermione was not to be distracted for long though. She pulled at Jason's sleeve. "Do you know any Muggle stories?"

"Lots," Jason promised, to a delighted grin from the child and a worried frown from her father. "Now, if you go back to bed I'll come and tell you a story soon."

"Good." It was emphatic. She turned and walked from the room with her back ramrod straight and all the arrogance at her five-year-old command.

Lucius straightened his robes. "Thank you. Her nurse should have been looking after her, but..."

"She's worried about you," Jason nodded. "Children know."

"And I am worried about her." Lucius said. "It's her future I'm trying to assure. Keep her safe for me."

"To the best of my small, Muggle, ability." Jason picked up the cup of potion again and this time tilted it to his mouth and drank.

It tasted of slightly salted celery – which was not one of Jason's favourite tastes. Its effect was even more unpleasant, a twisting, stretching and crushing sensation that ached bone-deep. Its only benefit was that it was fast. He had barely registered the pain when it stopped, and he found himself meeting Malfoy's eyes exactly on his level, and with vision that seemed oddly warped – it was only when he squinted down at himself that he realised how disconcerting it was to look down through white eyelashes at Malfoy's aristocratic nose from the inside.

"I..." He coughed, the rawness in his throat caused not by the taste of the potion, but by reconfigured vocal cords that delivered Malfoy's drawl without his conscious thought. That hadn't been the way the scripts of the films had portrayed the effects of the potion, though it certainly made his task a little easier. "I assume you don't want to be seen wandering around the house in these clothes."

Lucius examined Jason's faded blue jeans and open-necked polo-shirt as though inspecting himself in a mirror. "No. They do nothing for me. Come."

He turned, and led the way rapidly through the house, pointing out doors and naming rooms as he did so. Jason hoped that he wasn't supposed to remember everything in one pass – no matter how good his short-term memory was for dialogue. A wide sweep of stairs finally led to a suite of rooms that were unmistakably those of the master of the house. The four-poster bed looked comfortable and inviting. The adjoining dressing room with its racks of robes was positively intimidating.

"Try these." Lucius selected a couple of hangers and threw their contents down on the table. Cream brocade and amethyst silk spilled over the dark wood. "House-robes are probably all you'll need – as you'll not be leaving the Manor. Underclothes are in that drawer. The bathroom is through there. Everything is spelled to respond to my commands, so you shouldn't have any problems with the usual facilities. If you do," he gave a sudden smile that lit his face, "I'm, sure that Hermione will love having someone to lecture."

Jason's grin reflected Lucius's. "I'll enjoy being lectured to," he agreed.

Lucius nodded, serious again. "Look after her," he said. "I will try to be back tomorrow morning, so she'll barely know I'm gone. But..." He was interrupted by a sound which appeared to come from no one source but boomed through the house and grounds, the heavy clang of a cathedral bell sounding three times. Lucius set a steadying hand on the frame of the door. His face was white with tension. "I must go," he said. "Now."

The sound had been unnerving, and Jason wondered, briefly, how he had managed to get himself involved in this. But it was too late now. "Go," he said. "I'll look after Hermione."

Lucius needed no more reassurance. He drew his wand, a simple slender shaft, made an elegant severing gesture – and vanished. The clap of air that accompanied Aparition cut through the dying echoes of the bell and severed the tension in the room.

"Daddy?" Hermione had emerged from the room opposite and was standing looking uncertain in the doorway. Jason crossed the space in two strides and scooped her into his arms, needing the reassurance of a warm body as much as she did.

"Daddy will be back soon," he said. "Now, do you still want a bedtime story?"

"Oh please! A Muggle one!"

Jason racked his brains for any childrens stories that did not involve magic, fairies and wizards – there seemed to be remarkably few in his repertoire. Mentally cursing the effect that the Harry Potter book phenomenon had had on children's literature he finally remembered that wizards didn't have titles and royalty. He could probably recall enough of one Muggle story of non-magical adventure to lull the child to sleep.

"In the ancient city of London, on an autumn day in the sixteenth century, a boy was born to the poor family of Canty, who did not want him..."

+++

It was the rattle of curtain rings pulling back along a gilded metal pole to allow pale winter sunlight to cast the tracery of the leaded window across the room and the bed, that woke him the next morning. The master of the house might be absent, but his routine seemed to continue regardless. Someone (he assumed house elves, and was grateful that he hadn't actually seen one in the flesh yet) had laid out the robes Lucius had selected on the previous evening, and run a bath in the adjacent room. Scented steam roiled beyond the glass of the adjoining door.

Trying not to remember last night's embarrassing moment coping with unfamiliar plumbing (a moment which he hoped might become the subject of a welcome _Obliviate_ on Lucius's return), he went off to investigate the facilities with the advantage of a good night's sleep.

By the time he had bathed, shaved, dressed, and used the set of silver-backed combs and brushes to cope with the damp tangles of Lucius's iconic hair (not without eyeing the matching scissors with a certain amount of wicked speculation – how on earth did women cope?), his stomach was demanding breakfast.

Mindful that a wizard was never without his wand, he picked up the prop from the bedside table. Then he traced last night's route back down the stairs and was led, by the scent of new-baked bread and steaming coffee, to a small dining room with a view out over the wintry Wiltshire countryside. There was still no sign of servants, but the food was delicious. He was on his second croissant when the door swung open and Hermione arrived at full tilt.

"You're still here!" she announced, throwing herself into his lap and scattering crumbs.

Before he could respond with more than a quick hug, another figure appeared in the doorway, a young woman who reminded him of Natalia, with an expression of frustration and apprehension on her thin, pretty face.

"I'm sorry, Mr Malfoy. She got away from me."

This, Jason surmised, must be the nurse Lucius had mentioned. He wished he'd remembered to ask her name, and maybe something about her background. She wasn't carrying a wand, which suggested that she might be a Muggle, or a squib, which would certainly explain her nervousness around her employer. Fortunately Hermione turned in his lap and favoured her with a triumphant grin.

"Daddy won't mind, Dorcas. He promised to spend all day showing me magic!"

"Not quite _all_ day, darling." He nodded to the nurse over Hermione's head, "And if Dorcas has something planned for you then you must do that first."

The woman looked relieved, if slightly confused. "N... no," she said. "Nursery tea is at four, but..."

"Then come and collect Hermione at four. " He hoped that giving the staff unexpected days off wasn't too out of character, but he needed a native guide, and Hermione was the only one on offer. Dorcas did look slightly puzzled, but gave an old fashioned bob of a curtsey and left the room – not quite at a run, but certainly with a speed that suggested she was not going to give her employer time to change his mind. He turned back to Hermione.

"Have you had your breakfast?"

"Course. It was boring. Can I have some of your coffee?"

She was very like her father, he thought. Demanding. Though Lucius had better manners. "If you ask properly," he agreed. "What's the magic word?"

There was a split second during which he wondered whether the idiom translated into the Wizarding culture, then Hermione smiled and said "Please?"

"Good girl."

After they had emptied the coffee jug and consumed the last crumbs of pastry, Hermione agreed to take him on a tour of the house that was a lot more informative than her Father's of the previous evening.

They ended up in the library, where the steel cages over the bookshelves were, Hermione informed him with relish, intended to keep readers safe from the books, rather than the other way around.

"They're all about charms and hexes and things," she said. "But there's nothing about Muggle magic. Tell me how that works."

It had been a long time since Jason had done magic for children's parties (he'd recently told one interviewer that he had rather priced himself out of the market), but he'd reckoned without Malfoy's galleons and Hermione's persistence.

"Very well." He took a lit candle from the holder on the desk and held it up to her eye level. "Watch carefully..."

+++

The crash of the heavy oak front doors being flung back on their hinges interrupted Jason's lesson on the Muggle version of Legilimency. Hermione looked up at him with a look of sudden fear on her face. It was the expression he'd last seen just before he had rescued her from the Tower of London, and it elicited the same need to protect her that it had on that occasion. Being a Malfoy in the present climate was not something to be envied.

"Go and sit down in the corner, Hermione," he said, "and be very quiet."

She nodded, and scrambled up into the big leather wing chair. Jason checked that she was almost invisible in the shadows, picked up the wand that Lucius had provided and strode out into the hall to face whatever threat had presented itself.

The entrance hall seemed to be full of people, all wearing the same style of robes, and all armed with drawn wands. They had clearly just forced the doors using magic, and were still in some disarray, so did not notice his arrival for some seconds. If he really had been a wizard he would have had ample time to Petrify the lot of them. He waited until there was a pause in the confusion and cleared his throat, projecting just enough to be heard by the whole crowd.

"To what do I owe this intrusion?"

The words focussed all their attention on him, and a petite grey-haired woman pointed her wand at him with a hand that, he was surprised to notice, shook slightly. Nevertheless he braced himself for the reaction from her curt " _Expelliamus!_ " and was surprised to feel no more than a sharp sting in his fingers as the wand was ripped from his hand to land in hers. She gave it a curious look, perhaps recognising that it was a fake, before pocketing it.

"Where is he?" she asked.

For a fraction of an instant Jason almost responded "I don't know," and then he realised that they would hardly be demanding to know Lucius Malfoy's whereabouts from the man himself. He threw his head back, grateful for the couple of inches extra height, looked down the unfamiliar nose and sneered: "How did you gain access to _my_ house?"

Another of the intruders, a redhead, and therefore, Jason thought, probably one of the Weasley clan, attempted to match the sneer with one of his own and succeeded only in sounding petulant rather than patrician. "Have you forgotten the terms of your remand, Mister Malfoy?"

Jason smiled Lucius's most predatory smile. "Let us assume," he said, giving no sign of the butterflies that were churning in his guts, "that I have, indeed, forgotten. Remind me."

"The Auror Service has access to your property and person at any time in the pursuit of enquiries into use of the Dark Arts."

"I see. And you are pursuing such an enquiry. Do you have proof?"

The redhead scowled. "Yeah. But I don't have to prove anything to you, Malfoy."

The loss of the honorific, and the sheer venom in the last word was enough to confirm Jason's speculation about the man's identity. He hardly needed the soft-spoken "Weasley..." from the woman as she attempted to defuse her colleague's temper to confirm it.

He was not to be diverted. "You know what I mean. Where is Potter?"

Ah. So that was what this was about. "Harry Potter? I have no idea." At least he could answer truthfully – though the bastard might have mentioned this when he'd talked him into this.

"Don't play games, Malfoy. Albus Potter. He's missing from school."

Jason cocked an eyebrow, this was beginning to be fun. "My my. A schoolboy plays truant and the Auror service is immediately called in? What's the matter? Have you run out of dark wizards to hunt?"

To his credit the man looked slightly sheepish. He dropped his eyes. "This isn't an official matter." He looked up. "Yet."

Jason nodded. "Well, perhaps we should all retire to the drawing room and discuss this properly?" He turned and swept across the hall to throw open the doors to what he hoped he had correctly remembered was the drawing room. The Aurors (there turned out to be five of them, which seemed an excessive number for a routine questioning of a man under parole), filed in and took places on the wooden-framed chairs that furnished the room.

"Now," he said, settling himself into a more comfortable upholstered seat and arranging his robes around him, "Tell me why you think I might have anything to do with the disappearance of Harry Potter's son?"

"Because," said the redhead, leaning forward, his wand still trained on the blond man, despite the fact that he had been disarmed, "Albus Potter was last seen in company with your grandson, Scorpius, in a shop in Hogsmeade."

Jason steepled his fingers, a gesture that emphasised the lack of a wand, and his command of the situation. "I see. Both boys are missing, and you come to me. Are you then accusing me of kidnapping my own grandson? "

The Weasley looked belligerent. "We can't find him either. As you well know."

Jason thought fast. So this explained Lucius's concern. And his need for secrecy. He hoped that the man had not lied to him, and that whatever mission he was on would result in the restoration of both boys to their families. But that didn't help him. Plainly his current task was to play for time – and deny all knowledge of the missing boys. Which would be easy enough. Even if they resorted to _Veritaserum_ there was nothing that he could tell them. Nevertheless he would rather not experience the Wizarding world's version of interrogation techniques. He knew far too much about Muggle ones.

"As you say," he said, choosing his words carefully, "the boy is my grandson. He is the responsibility of his parents, not myself. I have my own children to look after. And I hope that I am more vigilant than Mr Potter appears to be. Although I suppose that if one has the entire Auror service at ones disposal one can afford to be a negligent parent."

He was watching them closely, enjoying playing Lucius the arrogant bastard again after the broken reed of the last films. The woman recognised the insult; clearly she had some pride in the integrity of her calling. The redhead (it was probably Ron, though neither his features nor bearing had any similarity to Rupert's) took his words entirely at face value.

"Yeah. Harry's got us to protect his family from gits like you, Malfoy. So you're going to tell us everything you know. Or we search the place for him."

Jason spread his hands generously. "Be my guest. As you yourself said, the terms of my remand do allow you access." He rose from his seat. "If that is all, I will be in the library if you need me. Otherwise, do let yourselves out when you've finished."

That wrong-footed them. Two of the junior aurors rose from their seats, but the woman remained where she was, quelling them with a look. "We only came here to confirm that you were in residence. There was a rumour that you had been seen in the company of one of our suspects this morning. However, since you are here, and the Auror telltales indicate that no one has left this house by magical means for the period in question, it seems that our report was incorrect."

"Evidently." Jason tried not to give the word the sort of leering intonation that was Alan's trademark Snapelike delivery – and failed. Now that the immediate danger was over he was having fun.

"But you must be concerned about your grandson. There have been rumours of ransom demands. For both boys."

This was familiar territory, a nice simple kidnapping plot. He wondered whether Lucius had agreed to pay the ransom, or was he off now using more direct methods than Potter to confront the kidnappers. He had said before that keeping his family safe was a matter for himself, and not the Auror service. But whatever Malfoy was doing, Jason could deny all knowledge of it. He smiled. "I don't listen to rumours," he said. "If there has been a demand for ransom for Scorpius I know nothing about it. Perhaps you should ask my son."

"Ask me what?"

The new voice was quite unexpected, and five wands rose to confront the man who emerged from the fireplace, dusting powder from his robes.

Although he had watched the make-up artists working on aging up Tom for the Epilogue scenes (the casual comment that "We'll give him some of your wrinkles, Jason," still rankled) the reality of meeting the thirty-year-old Draco Malfoy was, in a way, more disconcerting than meeting his father. Jason wasn't sure whether to applaud the timing or curse the intrusion. The initiative was taken deftly from his hands. The younger man crossed the room and gave him a brief, and entirely natural, peck on the cheek, before turning back to the assembled aurors.

"Hello, Father. I didn't expect to find you entertaining visitors."

Jason mentally backtracked the conversation and decided that answering Draco's question was probably the best move in the circumstances. "These people are not my guests," he said, striving for Lucius at his most urbane. "They seem to be under the impression that Scorpius has been kidnapped. Along with Harry Potter's son. And that we know something about it."

"Kidnapped?" Draco frowned, but Jason was close enough to catch the glint of amusement in his grey eyes, so like his father's. "I know that Aunt Andromeda can be insistent about attendance at her house parties, but I hardly think that she can be accused of kidnapping her guests especially when they are family. When I left her house half an hour ago Teddy was introducing Scorpius and Albus to the new litter of crups. I left very firm instructions that he is not to bring one home."

The red-headed Auror was looking from father to son like a spectator at a tennis match. His senior stood. Her expression suggested that she no more believed it herself, but she was going to respond by the book.

"You understand that we can't take your word for this, Mr Malfoy?"

Draco nodded. "Of course not. I'm not sure whether Andromeda will be able to cope with all five of you – I'm afraid that her house doesn't have the space that the Manor does. But if you would like to use our Floo facilities..."

Weasley eyed the fireplace with distaste, clearly uneasy about the idea of using anything offered by a Malfoy. Whether the woman shared his unease she did not have the bad manners to show it. She shook her head.

"Thank you for the offer, but we have our broomsticks outside. And we would not wish to inconvenience Mrs Tonks." She turned to the redhead. "Mr Weasley, will you take Jewkes and Chambers back to the office and inform Mr Potter that we are investigating a report that his son is staying with Mrs Tonks. I expect that he will want to come himself."

There was no reasonable way that Weasley could refuse, though he gathered his companions with a very bad grace, casting a venomous look at both Malfoys before leaving. The atmosphere in the room seemed to physically lighten with his departure. The woman sheathed her wand, and placed the one she had confiscated carefully on a side table, well out of reach of either of the two Malfoys. Jason recognised the action as that of a very professional policeman dealing with the return of a dangerous weapon under duress. He very carefully moved slightly away from the table, distancing himself from the wand, and the woman relaxed.

"You will both remain here," she said, "until I have confirmed the truth of your statements. And the Potter boy is safely back with his family."

Draco nodded. "Of course." He glanced at Jason, and again there was that gleam of mischief in his eyes. "You hadn't planned on going anywhere, had you, Father?"

"No," he said. "Hermione needs me here. In fact she will be worried by all this noise. I need to check on her." He glanced at the two remaining Aurors. "I hope you don't mind if Draco sees you out?"

He did not wait for their confirmation. Lucius would not have, and he was genuinely worried about Hermione having been left alone for so long. While Draco escorted the intruders back to the hall he turned and made his way through the opposite door and back along the passage to the library.

Where he found Hermione kneeling up on a chair at the table and practicing the trick with the vanishing candle.

"Oh good!" she said, bouncing down, "You were ever so long. Look, I can do it properly now!"

He settled down next to her, surprised by his own relief at finding her still here and safe, and the relaxation of the tension of the scene he'd just played out in the drawing room. "Well done. Show me again."

They were concentrating so much on their game that neither heard the door to the library open. It was a few moments later that a slow drawl made them both look up, to find Draco lounging against the doorframe with a glass of brandy in one hand. "I do hope that you're not corrupting my sister with your Muggle tricks," he said.

"Don't be silly, Draco," Hermione said, without looking up from her self-imposed task. "Daddy said I should learn all about Muggle stuff. And I can do Muggle magic. Look!"

"Later," said Draco. He did, however, cross the room to set his glass down on the table. Jason stood to meet his eyes on a level and tried not to panic when the other man reached into his coat to withdraw a short metal cylinder that looked, at first sight, like a weapon. "You'll want this," he said, handing it over. "It's the polyjuice antidote. Father sends his apologies, by the way. He didn't expect you to have to deal with that mob – especially the idiot Weasley – but it took rather longer than we anticipated to find the boys and get them out of trouble. It seemed prudent to take them to Aunt Andromeda's place rather than bringing them here. And Dad's not as young or as fast as he was in a duel. I'm afraid that he got a little... damaged. So he asked me to come and take care of you."

"And," said Jason, "it might have been rather tricky explaining two Lucius Malfoys to the Auror service." He took the flask, unscrewed the top and tossed back the contents in one swallow, anxious that this time the taste should not linger. The stretching sensation seemed to be over a lot more quickly in reverse. He resisted the urge to shake himself like a wet dog, as his skewed vision cleared and the world settled back into its familiar place.

Draco seemed equally disconcerted. "That," he said, "Is really weird. And cream just isn't your colour. I suggest that you go up and change back into your own clothes while I hunt up Hermione's nurse to look after her. She must be around here somewhere – unless you've scared her off."

"She was supposed to collect Hermione at teatime," Jason said.

Draco glanced up at the library clock where, indeed, the hands stood just short of a scroll bearing the legend 'Teatime'. "Then she'll be in the nursery. Come on, Hermione. Say goodbye to Mr Isaacs."

Thus commanded, Hermione waved cheerfully and followed her brother out. Jason dropped into the vacated easy chair and appropriated what was left of Draco's drink. The time would come, though probably not for some months, when he would be able to look back on this experience with nostalgia, but at the moment he just wanted it all over. Revived a little by the spirits, he made his way back to the bedroom and followed Draco's advice on changing. Shedding the robes felt, as usual, like shedding the character, far more than drinking the potion had.

Draco arrived just as he was removing Lucius's rings and re-fastening his own wristwatch. The wizard watched for a moment, clearly feeling as out of place in the situation as Jason did. Then he blinked and withdrew a leather drawstring bag from his robes, dropping it on the table alongside the discarded rings.

"Dad said you asked for payment in galleons," he said, "Though Merlin knows this isn't nearly enough to compensate you for handling that lot. And entertaining Hermione."

Jason smiled. Now that it was all over he could look back on the whole situation with a certain amount of amusement. He picked up the bag and dropped it into his briefcase alongside the Potter script and Snape's wand. "It was... interesting," he said. "But the next time someone kidnaps one of your family members, I really do think you should call in the Aurors rather than me."

"That's what I told father," said Draco, with a sigh, "But he never did listen to me. Now," he was suddenly brisk, "Are you ready to go home?"

After a glance around the room to check that he had left nothing of his own behind, a reflex from spending far too much time in hotel rooms, Jason nodded, though he must have looked a little apprehensive about whatever magical method Draco proposed to return him because the wizard grinned. "I'd offer to use the car, but only Dad can operate it. If you don't mind a bit of an experiment you can use the new Homing Spell. It's a lot more comfortable than portkeys or apparition."

"Does it work for Muggles?"

"I wouldn't have offered otherwise. You don't need a wand. It's another of Madam-Know-It-All Granger's inventions." Jason noticed that the nickname was said with affection rather than scorn, clearly a lot had changed in the Wizarding World since the departure of Voldemort. Draco continued officiously, "It only works to get you home though. All you have to do is close your eyes and tap your heels together three times. And think to yourself..."

"There's no place like home," said Jason.

The last thing he saw, as the magic closed around him and transported him back to the familiar North London street, was Draco's astonished expression.

 **The End**

**Author's Note:**

> This would not have been possible without the works of JK Rowling, Mark Twain, L Frank Baum and (of course) Jason Isaacs. None of whom bear any responsibility for the content. This is a work of fiction - it is worth stressing now that no-one could be lowered in the eyes of reasonable people generally by being depicted as carrying out heroic deeds in the Potterverse (or, indeed, anywhere else).
> 
> I never intended to write a long sequel to _Off Book_ ; if anything I had a short vignette planned in order to get in a few 'wand' puns. But the bombshell that was Dermot O'Leary's interview with Jason Isaacs on 2 March 2010 drove me back to the pen.
> 
> Some of the text of this story is taken directly from that interview, and a few others. The plot is pure fiction. I deliberately worked to complete this before the release of _Deathly Hallows Part 1_. If anything in that film (or its sequel) contradicts this – so much the better.
> 
> My thanks to those who have commented on both stories, and particularly to Leni Jess for amendments and corrections.
> 
> Ina MacAllan, 19 November 2010


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